


Intersection

by renquise



Series: Asymptote [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renquise/pseuds/renquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch is an amazing luxury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intersection

**Author's Note:**

> Er, I wasn’t intending to make a continuation of Asymptote, but I was apparently compelled to write a completely gratuitous extra bit where Spy and Engineer get a hotel room on their break and make out a whole lot. Whoops. So basically: totally gratuitous established-relationship fluff.

They’re so used to having to take things slowly and deliberately.

It feels like such a luxury to wrench a surprised gasp from Spy when Engineer pins him to the wall, the door falling shut behind them. Engineer can’t help but kiss him over and over, pressed against him from their lips to their legs. Later—later they’ll take the time to touch everywhere—he’s always been good at being thorough, after all—but now, all he wants to do is push against Spy and get Spy’s skin under his hands.

Neither of them says a word. It feels bizarrely foreign, and Engineer almost instinctively slips into voicing what he wants to do, as usual. They’re used to reading each other’s gasps and moans, but it’s novel to try and interpret Spy’s shivers against his hands, the tension in his muscles and the way he pushes into Engineer’s touch, rather than his hoarse words. Engineer’s words crest against Spy’s lips—please, yes, I want—but then recede, his mouth caught up with kissing Spy breathless.

At points, it’s awkward, their hands colliding when they pull at each other’s clothes, their teeth clacking together when they kiss, but it just makes Engineer laugh in delight, revelling in the physicality of it all. They stumble their way over to the bed, tripping on pants and discarded shirts, Engineer supporting Spy when he threatens to overbalance.

He’s seen Spy bring himself off, hands drifting towards the spots that make him shiver: his nipples, his belly. Engineer knows Spy’s lean frame and broad shoulders, but it’s exhilarating to match the sight to touch—he closes his eyes, mapping out the swoop of his back muscles, the sine wave of his vertebrae, the ragged scar following the curve of his ribs, the dip at the base of his spine. There’s an exploratory thrill in finding the back of Spy’s knee with his lips, or to sink his teeth lightly at the back of Spy’s neck and feel him shudder and buck. It’s all familiar, and yet so new.

There’s so much Engineer wants to do: things he’s whispered into Spy’s ear to see him breathless and coming in his own hand, things that Spy has suggested in a low voice with his mouth breathing a hot trail over Engineer’s skin, intimate and dirty. In the end, though, he can’t seem to get enough of lying tangled with Spy, grinding against each other, their hands everywhere. It’s almost laughably basic, but the feel of Spy’s skin against his own seems to derail his thoughts, leaving him gasping and wanting.

When they’re both completely exhausted, Spy falls asleep, pressed close against Engineer. Engineer keeps himself awake long enough to gather Spy into his arms as best he can, before drifting off, feeling completely overwhelmed and utterly content.

 

The most amazing things, though, are the little unexpected touches: to be able to take Spy out to lunch and feel their arms press against each other as Spy leans over to recommend something fancy and French off the menu. He offhandedly bumps his foot against Spy’s as he reaches for the pepper—he can see Spy open his mouth, no doubt to chide him about adding pepper to a meal whose spices were balanced by the chef, only to close his mouth and nudge Engineer’s foot back. It’s completely ridiculous, but he can’t help but shiver at the smallest things. In the middle of a bustling restaurant, he might not be able to kiss Spy the way he wants to while they linger over coffee, but he can’t resist placing a hand in the small of Spy’s back as Engineer holds the door open for him. When they walk together, Spy keeps on touching his arm to emphasize a point he’s making, resting a hand on his shoulder—little incredulous touches, as if he can’t quite believe this is real.

 

Engineer likes the evenings when they sit together, Spy leaning against him and flipping through a cheap paperback—an Agatha Christie, from what Engineer can glimpse of the battered cover. Engineer’s taking the chance to catch up on a backlog of journals, only slightly distracted by the warm line of Spy’s side against his own. It’s awful nice to be able to read some of the most up-to-date stuff; by the time their mail gets to base, journals are usually a touch out of date, and it’s darned hard to get his hands on some of the more recent Soviet research.

Spy reaches over and pats his leg when Engineer makes outraged noises at some of the utter nonsense that manages to get published, scribbling notes in the margins—for Pete’s sake, were some of these articles even peer-read? Thankfully, there are a few redeeming articles to be picked out, and he soon finds himself flipping between the journals and jotting down equations on hotel stationery, considering a way to make his teleport even more efficient.

“Engineer, I must insist that you stop making vaguely pornographic noises while reading about quantum thermodynamics, or whatever it is this time,” Spy says, leaning into Engineer’s space and plucking his reading glasses off. “It’s a sad, sad day when I feel jealous of—“ He glances at the author of the article. “—Dr. C. H. Bennett, egghead extraordinaire, you know.”

“’S pretty exciting stuff. I can see why you’d be a mite worried,” Engineer grins up at Spy.

“Really. Should I just leave you and Docteur Bennett alone in peace, then? I’ll just go and find myself a pretty young thing at the bar,” Spy says, moving away from him with a smirk.

“Well, I’ve heard that Dr. Bennett is willing to share,” Engineer says, wrapping a hand around Spy’s tie and tugging lightly to bring him close again.

“Hm. And what if I’m not willing to share?” Spy plants a hand on his chest, his fingers five points of warm pressure.

“I guess we have a heck of a dilemma, then. On one hand, Dr. Bennett’s really quite the smart cookie. Won a couple awards and everything. And you’re a bit of a vain bastard with an ego only slightly smaller than Scout’s, for starters,” Engineer says, reaching to wrap his arm around Spy’s back, hovering over it by instinct for a few moments before Spy nudges back into his hand with a rueful look. “On the other hand, I don’t know how good Dr. Bennett is at kissin’.”

And that feels familiar—the playful back-and-forth standing in for touches. Instead of answering, though, Spy leans in and kisses him, long and lingering.

“So, how do I compare to the good doctor?”

Engineer grins and strokes his thumb along Spy’s cheekbone. “Ahh, I reckon you’ll do,” he murmurs against Spy’s lips.

 

He knows Spy’s an early riser, being a light sleeper and all, but it’s awful nice to wake with Spy pressed against his back and kissing his neck. Slowly, he registers Spy’s hand stroking down his chest and curling lazily around his cock.

“Geez, ain’t you tired at all? I could sleep for days,” he murmurs, not opening his eyes yet, revelling in Spy’s slow, sleep-muffled touches.

“Shh, cher, don’t ruin my fun,” Spy whispers, his voice still rough with sleep. His accent’s thicker in the mornings, and Engineer can’t help but like it. “You don’t even need to move, if you don’t want to.”

Engineer pushes back into his touch, tilting his head back to catch Spy’s lips. “’s that so. Well, I guess that’s all right, then.”

“You’re terribly lethargic in the mornings, you know. A bit unbefitting a hardened mercenary.”

“Didn’t remember anything against sleeping in when I signed the contract,” Engineer says, trailing off into a soft groan when Spy strokes his palm over his cock, slipping his other arm around his chest.

“Hmm. Might have been in one of those ridiculous subsections, you never know. Somewhere in there with having a great deal of sex with very handsome Spies. Fraternization or somesuch,” Spy murmurs with a chuckle that Engineer feels against his back.

“Well, we’re a bit late for that, then. An’ don’t laugh at your own jokes, it’s unbecoming.” Engineer twines his hand with Spy’s, pressing their joined hands against his chest.

“I’m terribly witty and you know it. It’s part and parcel of the job description, I’m afraid.”

“Good lord, I hope they’re doing a performance review soon, then. Your one-liners are downright terrible, Spy.”

“You wound me, Engineer.”

Spy kisses him slow, his tongue pushing languidly into Engineer’s mouth. His hands smooth down Engineer’s thighs, and it’s all too slow and lazy to be full-blown sex, but it’s awful nice to just lay there and be touched, the soft morning light casting a golden glow on the sheets and on Spy’s hands.

“We’re going back to base soon, you know,” Spy murmurs against his neck.

Engineer feels a little thrown by the change in subject, his mind still fogged with warmth and sleepiness. “Hm—where ‘r they sending us now? Viaduct?”

He feels Spy’s body tense minutely against his back. “I believe so.” Spy curls impossibly closer and strokes his hands down Engineer’s chest, warm and lingering. Oh.

Engineer twists around in Spy’s arms, cups his jaw, and leans in. His lips stop a bare breath away from Spy’s own, the motion familiar from stolen almost-kisses on the battlefield. “This—this is us, too, you know,” he murmurs.

“Mm.” Spy doesn’t say anything, but his hands hover at the back of Engineer’s neck and trace lightly down his spine, and Engineer feels his muscles relax.

Spy’s hands dip lower and squeeze playfully. “So, I have some ideas to wake you up properly, mon cher.”

“Get me a cup of coffee, and we’ll talk.”

 

It does feel good to be coming back. Engineer’s looking forward to making those adjustments to his teleporters, especially since Spy suggested a way to tuck the wiring in and make them harder to sap. Scout strides onto the train burdened with an overabundance of baked goods from his mother. (He makes the mistake of asking Spy what he’d done over vacation, making a strangled noise when Spy smirks and says “Well, Engineer, for a start.”) Soldier reports that he did not accomplish his objective of liberating Scout’s mother from the clutches of RED Spy, but he had gained additional intelligence regarding Scout’s mother’s flower preferences, and as such, did not consider this campaign a complete loss. Demoman claps a hand on Engineer’s shoulder and pulls out polaroids from his wine tour of southern France. Judging from the increasingly blurry, tilted shots of Medic sipping dubiously from a glass and Heavy daintily gripping the stem of his wine glass between two massive fingers, they hadn’t gone for the usual swill-and-spit method. Pyro spends a good portion of the trip regaling him with a story that, as far as Engineer can figure out, involved Sniper’s van, Las Vegas, and a motorcycle race.

Engineer keeps a hand on Spy’s arm on the last leg of the train trip. As the snow-capped rooftops come into view, Engineer feels the weave of Spy’s suit fade under his fingers, his hand gradually slipping through. Spy places his hand over his, and even though he can’t feel the soft leather of Spy’s gloves anymore, Engineer’s hand still feels warm.


End file.
